Sherlock Holmes: Marvels of a Predestined Future
by DarqueQueen7
Summary: As Sherlock hides from Colonel Moran in an empty house across from his rooms on Baker Street, he finds his future may not be as in flux as he previously believed.  References from both movies and "The Empty House" by Sir ACD.


_A/N: Now this is a major switch for me, but this idea has beating around in my head since going to the midnight showing of SH: AGOS. So, I decided to go with it – hope you enjoy!_

**Sherlock Holmes: Marvels of a Predestined Future**

He was hidden; safe. But only for the moment. The remnants of Moriarity's cohorts were still tracking him, now led by the infamous Colonel Sebastian Moran. He had noticed since his clandestine return that their numbers had been diminishing. He did not know to whom it was that he owed his thanks; because he was grateful not only for their help, but also for their silence. Other then his pursuers, no one except Mycroft Holmes knew his sibling Sherlock still lived.

He peeked quickly out a broken window of an abandoned house across the streets from his old rooms of 221B…so close – and yet so far away. Moran needed Sherlock Holmes dead and buried permanently in revenge for the death of his mentor and friend, Professor James Moriarity. So Sherlock watched…as those paid to watch his abode watched out for _Him_. And then, his Deliverance revealed itself.

A tall man dressed in evening cape and top hat, having the gait of one that had imbibed too much for one evening, staggered by the two ne'er-do-wells watching the front of his home and fell into the men. The two men began to raise their voices when the gentleman raised both of his white gloved hands and touched the ruffians on their foreheads. The two men instantly fell to the pavement unconscious. The man then turned to Sherlock's hiding place, looking _directly __at __HIM!_

_Look __behind __you!_ The man's voice said _inside __Sherlock__'__s __head!_

He quickly turned towards the hallway and viewed the man that hunted him. Colonel Sebastian Moran stared in anger and disdain at Sherlock Holmes and raised his weapon intent on sending the consulting detective to the same place the Professor resided. But then a low pitched whine began to hum in the hallway behind the marksman. Sherlock shifted over; intent on looking down the hall. But he saw nothing as the darkness was obliterated by a red light that focused as a heated beam – engulfing Moran, burning through his chest and destroying his heart. His face and eyes never lost their surprised look as he fell to the floor: first to his knees, then to his right side as the weapon he still held shifted his body in that direction. Sherlock stared into the dead man's eyes, then looked towards the hallway and the person that he owed his salvation to.

'Are you the one that contacted me just now?' Sherlock asked.

A small snort answered as the figure walked further up the hallway into the wan light cast by the gas lamps outside. It was a woman. Sherlock was not surprised; Irene…dressed like a man when the opportunity presented itself. Studying her quickly, he could see she was dressed as if returning from an evening on the town. 'No,' the female voice sounded. Her head tilted the top hat she wore. 'That was my partner, Kon Pan-Tse.' The sound of men's steps came up the staircase. 'Who comes now. I am Magellan,' the woman continued as she knelt down and began searching the dead man's pockets. 'Someone is trying to change history, Mister Holmes; change your future. It has already been deviated enough with your adventure with Blackwood. The effort to have you eliminated before your time has been great; but then again you and your brother are very important. It is the combined efforts of you both that keep your world from going mad too soon. We are here to fix it – and make sure it stays that way.' Magellan then pulled a silver disk from Moran's waistcoat and handed to Kon Pan-Tse standing behind her. The man in question then put the disk in his inside breast pocket of his overcoat.

'Ten minutes,' he said, looking to his fob watch – which by its sound, Sherlock deduced was a stopwatch.

A million questions burned through Sherlock's mind, but one look at the woman and her companion, both dressed in black from head to toe with no discernable markings or ranks, he knew he would get no answers. The woman nodded knowingly at him. 'I am sorry, but we can not reveal too much – it could lead to another deviation to the timeline. And that is something we can not allow.' The man with her, Kon Pan-Tse, looked to Sherlock's prone form on the dusty floor of the room and held a hand out to him to help him up.

'What the Professor said to you before your tumble down the Falls was true. War on a global scale is inevitable. Never forget that,' the man said softly. Sherlock marvelled that the voice sounded as soft as it was in his head. The man's blue eyes twinkled as both he and Magellan laughed. Sherlock started, but understood. _They __both __heard __him_.

'My brother, Mrs. Hudson; Doctor and Mrs. Watson? Are they safe?' Sherlock asked as the two turned to leave.

'They are all well; even Gladstone. No harm has come to them, Mister Holmes,' Kon Pan-Tse answered over his shoulder. 'And we will make sure it stays that way – for all of you.' The two then hefted the body of Moran between them and walking down the steps exited the empty house, onto the equally empty Baker Street.

'What is your organization? Who are you?' Sherlock asked softly as he watched them through the dirty, broken window walk down the street and fade into London's evening darkness. 'How do I get in touch with you again?'

_We __are __called __Sentinels, __Mister __Holmes. __And __when __you __need __us __most, __we__'__ll __turn __up_, Magellan's voice said into his head.

~SH o0o SH~

The next day saw Baker Street, Pall Mall and Cavendish Place in equal uproars as Sherlock Holmes presented himself to those he considered his most precious of charges – and proclaimed that Professor Moriarity's network was finally dismantled. As proof of his claims, Holmes produced a copy of that morning's edition of The Times detailing the murder of Colonel Moran, whose body was found floating in the Thames with a hole in its chest and heart removed. The article then referred to other recent murders and unexplained deaths. The two men that had Baker Street under surveillance were also mentioned as being found dead, but without a mark on them. But both were known to be heavy drinkers and it was thought that perhaps they had imbibed something poisonous.

Two days later found Holmes sitting comfortably on his tiger skin in his old rooms before the fireplace at 221B Baker Street. Lestrade had left an interesting case for him to peruse and he had sorted through most of his backlog of mail. Watson and Mary were to come for tea the next day – and strangely enough, he found he was glad. He puffed tobacco in his clay pipe as his thoughts strayed to his saviors and that most bizarre evening in the empty house across the street.

As he grew drowsy, he pulled his throws closer to his person as he stared into the fire…and fell under Morpheus' spell. In the morning before Mrs. Hudson came in to smoor the ashes and stoke the fireplace for later in the day, Sherlock awoke to find a message written within the ash that he later obliterated:

**We are The Sentinels of Time. We watch. We guard. We protect.**

He knew he should have been horrified that these Sentinels were able to enter his abode without stirring Mrs. Hudson or himself awake. No…strangely enough he was glad. Watson had Mary to watch over him. As for Sherlock Holmes…he knew another adventure within his predestined future with these Keepers of Time may be in the offing yet.

_A/N: The OC's are something I am playing with that may cross over into my DW/TW stories…not sure yet. But I'm kind of stoked to see them on the computer screen for the first time. And I hope this little ditty leaves you with enough questions to leave a review…_

_D._


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